Columbia Gorge, OR
He lay on his back as he cupped the dew beneath his palms, letting his fingers run through the blades of grass like a comb; clouds unwound the way creamer does in coffee.
He could feel the Earth breathing.
With such vastness both ahead and behind him, he was reminded of his own breath, and its synchronicity. He noticed that the patterns in his lungs let out in the same moment the next breeze brushed his cheek. This must be what it's like to fall in love, he thought. Fluid and gentle.
Photo by: Kristina Parks